Page 100 of Running Home to You
T.K. shrugged as she leaned closer to the mirror and applied lipstick. “Kind of. I mean, I helped her buy the condo in Malibu, but she’s barely there. It’s like a glorified storage unit. We meet up when she’s in town though.” T.K. flicked her eyes to Kate and leaned back from her reflection. “Honestly, when she’s in the States, she’s mostly with her sister. I can barely keep track of what country she’s in. No one can.”
Kate nodded and looked down at her feet while she endured another gut punch. The one that came from Abby being so close, but so far. That everyone else had heard from her, while Kate got nothing. Like she’d done something wrong. An unfair punishment that she couldn’t perfect herself out of.
“Hey.” T.K. lifted Kate’s chin and smiled. “You look hot. Here.” She brought red lipstick to Kate’s mouth. She felt like a helpless college student again, secretly wishing to be cool and for Abby to notice her. “Cruz is going to die.”
“I’m not trying to get anything out of Abby,” Kate said.
“Oh, I know. But torturing her might be nice, don’t you think? Remind her what she missed out on?” T.K. winked.
The confidence boost, the plot of revenge, and the booze bolstered Kate as they hit the bars. More than one head turned on their stroll through the casino. T.K., familiar with every spot on the strip, got them into Room X, a nightclub with caged dancers, a light show, shirtless bartenders, and a celebrity DJ who Kate didn’t know but everyone else screamed over. She really was back in college, clueless and overstimulated.
“To Mick’s last weekend of freedom! May she make her best mistakes now, before she makes the biggest one of all!” T.K. toasted.
“You’re awful,” Jill slurred.
“To Mick!”
It wasn’t yet midnight, but they’d already gotten sauced at dinner and a show, sufficiently spiraling past tipsiness. T.K. paid for bottle service, so alcohol streamed steadily to their booth along with countless drinks sent courtesy of winking, sweaty men.
“Where the hell is Cruz?” Jill asked.
“Her plane landed a bit ago.” Mick shrugged. “She’ll be here.”
Kate blanched as she scanned the crowd.
“Come on.” T.K. handed her a shot. “Let’s dance!”
“I don’t know.” Kate hiccupped.
“Dance! Dance! Dance!” Jill jumped up and chanted.
The three of them bumped their way to the floor. Kate swayed at T.K.’s and Jill’s behest. She wasn’t one for dancing, but the music, the energy, and her buzz inspired her to bop along. She jumped around with Jill and let herself forget about Abby. T.K. quickly found an admirer to dance against, and when a husky voice met Kate’s ear, she startled.
“What’s your name, beautiful?” the man asked.
Kate laughed. “Um, no thank you.”
“No Thank You? Beautiful name. What is that, French?”
“Hey, back off.” Jill draped an arm around Kate. “She will sue you, and you do not want to know her hourly rate.”
Kate snorted as the guy became disinterested and tried his luck with a more available short dress. As she recovered from the fit of laughter, her gaze landed on what she’d longed for. Abby. They stood in swarms of strangers, but the red and purple–hued sea parted, and they found each other without trying. The bass dropped to a low note and Kate’s stomach dove right along with it, static lighting up her skin and prickling her spine.
“Fuck,” she whispered.
Abby raised her hand and nodded. She wore gold and black patterned trousers and a matching vest, something designer, arms toned and strong, hair dark and cropped short. Just as broad and beautiful as five years ago. Maybe more so.
“Cruz! Finally!” Jill shouted.
She skipped across the dance floor and flung her arms around Abby. T.K. followed, but Kate bolted. She weaved and ducked through the crowd, losing Abby and their friends as she posted up at the bar. She needed another drink. The bartender ignored her and while she’d get prompt service at their table, she wasn’t about to watch Abby reunite with all the friends she kept except her. So, she took matters into her own hands and reached over the bar for a bottle of vodka.
“Hey!” The bartender caught her immediately. “Don’t reach over the bar!”
“Okay, okay!” Kate darted back, startlingly aware that she was drunker than she thought. “Can I please have a vodka soda?”
He glared. “Yeah, just wait.”
Kate dragged in a ragged breath. When the drink finally arrived, she hissed “Jerk” under her breath and the bartender scowled. She barely got a sip down before the source of her anguish descended the stairs. Abby ambled easily, Mick, Jill, and T.K. behind her. Kate clenched her drink.
